I’m a non-mil non-LEO dumbass. We’ve talked about the ballistics. The practical. The tactical. The mean. The lo-down dirty greasy.
But how about bringing it up to another level? Which level would that be, you say?
The higher class level.
Here, one doesn’t do the dirty work oneself, god no, man! That’s why
beasts were put on this earth of ours.
At first glass break, simply ring Jeeves to release the four, the six, the eight, hell, the twenty hounds! No half measures! Full-steam ahead!
If the ruffians are already in the house at that point, the dog-frenzy downstairs will give you lots of cushion. Take your time getting dressed in your finest poor smoking jacket, like Thurston Howell. Padded slippers are ok, as is your ratty pipe you once received from the Raj while on expedition.
After all, there won’t be much left downstairs, but you don’t want to bloody the
good stuff. What would the Queen think, after all?
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Once the screams start subsiding, glide down the stairs and have the help fix you a G&T. See if the dogs need a dessert
Do place the French M 1822 bis in a pocket.
What’s that? For self-protection? Heavens no. It’s to put whomever out of their misery, lad.
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Now if it’s the ATF you might be stuffed, old boy.